


The Rest of Me Didn't Get the Memo

by ereshai



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Suicide, My zombie fics don't have happy endings, Violence typical of the zombie genre, Zombie Fest 2013, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 21:50:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this zombi_fic_ation prompt: Any fandom/original -- Like any virus, the zombie virus doesn't affect everyone the same way. It's fatal about 50% of the time, and there's no pattern to who dies and who survives. Traditional vaccination methods are useless, and just wait until the government 'improves' and weaponizes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rest of Me Didn't Get the Memo

“Oppen got bit,” Little Jay announced, his deep voice making Max jump.

Max straightened up, one hand massaging the ache in her lower back. She had been bent over the microscope, looking at those damn samples, far too long. She turned to look at Little Jay, standing in the doorway of her makeshift lab. He slouched against the doorframe, his head almost touching the top of it. There wasn’t a whole lot of little about Little Jay.

“Oppen? Again?” Max brushed a piece of hair out of her face. Time for another trim, if she could drag herself away from her duties long enough to get it done.

“He doesn’t think he’ll shake it this time.” Little Jay stepped inside. The room immediately felt a lot smaller.

“His current samples are all still actively fighting the Virus. There’s no reason to think anything will be different this time.”

“That’s what we thought about Gray.”

Max looked away. Little Jay’s last partner had successfully fought off the Virus a total of five times. He hadn’t been so lucky the sixth time.

“Those samples don’t mean nothing,” Little Jay continued. “Why are you wasting your time in here? What’re you gonna discover that real scientists haven’t already?”

Max shrugged. She wasn’t trying to discover anything. “I monitor the samples. When the program tells me to do something, I do it.” She wasn’t sure if the program, dubbed Norton, was still being updated by Atlanta, or if it was just running the same series of tests again and again because no one was telling it to stop. She seemed to be doing the same things over and over again.

Little Jay glared and folded his arms across his chest.

“Fine. I’ll get a new sample from him.” A new sample wouldn’t tell her anything they didn’t already know, but maybe it would make Little Jay calm down.

“I put him in Iso-3. It’s his favorite.” Little Jay ducked out of the room and waited in the hallway.

“Of course it is,” Max muttered. “He plastered the walls with porn.” She grabbed the blood kit and an extra pair of latex gloves, and left the lab.

Little Jay followed her down the hall and through the pressurized door to the isolation rooms. The door was left open in defiance of security protocols. Everyone was a little lax while they were in the facility, no matter how guarded they were outside the walls. Max thought about bringing the breach to Commander Albert’s attention – again – but it would do no good. She had basically told Max to shut up and get out of her office the last time.

The door to Iso-3 was closed, at least. A sign was taped to it, a close up of deformed male genitalia Oppen had cut from a medical textbook, with ‘Welcome to the FUBAR room’ written on it in black marker. She rolled her eyes and knocked; she had caught Oppen in the act of…pleasuring himself…more than once.

“It’s open,” came Oppen’s muffled voice. Max rolled her eyes again and cycled the door open; Oppen knew why she was knocking. He would probably have his pants down around his ankles just on principle. She was pleasantly surprised to find him lying on the bed fully clothed. He was looking at pornography, of course.

“I need a blood sample.” Max tried not to give Oppen too many openings for crude comments, but the man could find something suggestive in any innocuous statement. She braced herself for his reply.

“Okay.”

Max blinked in shock, but she didn’t hesitate to prepare her equipment.

“Your bedside manner sucks,” he said as she began drawing his blood.

“I’m not a doctor.” They had lost the entire medical staff to the Virus; the last doctor had succumbed only two months ago. Max had learned how to draw blood, but other than that, she only knew first aid.

And soon as she had enough blood for testing, she secured the sample and disposed of the contaminated supplies.

“Something feels…different,” Oppen said as she was leaving. She turned to look at him. “I mean, I’ve been infected before. It never felt like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m already dead. It’s already killed me, and the rest of me hasn’t gotten the memo yet.”

Max wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Any physical symptoms?”

“The usual. Tired, mostly, like I’ve got a bad cold coming on.”

“I guess we’ll see what your blood test turns up.”

“I guess.” Oppen picked up his magazine again, dismissing her.

Little Jay was out in the hall, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“So?” he asked, straightening when he saw her. Max pulled the door shut and engaged the lock.

“What do you expect me to tell you? I have the blood sample. Let me run it through the program.”

Little Jay huffed impatiently. “He told you he felt different, right? That’s got to mean something.”

Max shrugged. “Like I told Oppen, I’m not a doctor. Even if I was, I couldn’t tell you a damn thing without a _blood test_.”

“This is my fault,” Little Jay said suddenly.

“What?”

“Gray beat the Virus how many times? Then the first time he got it after we partnered up, he died. Before that, Mickey. And Sharon. Now Oppen.” He looked away, blinking rapidly.

“How many of Oppen’s previous partners died? It’s not you, it’s the Virus. We’ve all lost people.”

“Sure,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

“I’m heading back.” Max thought she should probably say something else, but there was a reason she wasn’t a counselor.

Little Jay did not follow her back to the lab, for which she was grateful. She didn’t appreciate his hovering, and he never listened when she told him glaring at the equipment didn’t make it work faster.

She put the tube of Oppen’s blood into the machine, started the testing program, and went back to her samples in progress. None of her current experiments were time sensitive, but she checked them all carefully anyway. Nothing had changed, according to Norton. She got lost in the routine of recording results, comparing numbers, and queuing up the next sample.

The current round of tests were on tissue taken from those who had succumbed to the Virus, supposedly in the hopes of finding a cure; in other words, a way to kill those who were already dead, a way that didn’t involve putting the living in harm’s way. A bullet to the head was effective, as long as they had bullets. More often, in order to save ammunition, the men and women guarding the supply scavengers were using to blunt instruments on the undead, and that carried a greater risk of infection. Another series of tests concentrated on finding a vaccine. Neither was making any progress.

She was setting up another test when Norton overrode her screen.

_Engage Quarantine protocol 2. Take immediate action. Failure to comply within 10 seconds will result in bio-contamination containment protocols for the entire facility._

The countdown was already at 6. Max keyed in a command, and the door to the lab hissed closed, sealing her in. Luckily, protocol 2 did not involve sealing the ventilation system, as well. She wasn’t anxious to trust her life to the blue suit and the air hose it was connected to; it hadn’t been properly serviced in months. What had triggered the quarantine? The message on the screen changed.

_Variation #194a-V present in sample #1736-Oppen. Maximum containment, priority alpha-red. Repeat, maximum containment, priority alpha-red. Repeat, maximum con-_

_If you are reading this, the worst possible future has come to pass. In short, the system has detected a modified strain of the Virus that was never supposed to leave the lab. This strain is 100% fatal, and there’s still no cure. Destroy all samples. Kill any infected personnel, destroy the bodies, and thank your chosen deity that we were unable to make the Virus airborne like they wanted. For what it’s worth, I am sorry._

A saved message on an automated system, triggered by the presence of a specific Virus strain. Max was certain now that no one was on the other end any more. Quarantining the lab made no sense; the infected blood wasn’t dangerous just by existing. Why was she was stuck in there, where she couldn’t do a damn thing about anything? She could contact Commander Albert, who was more likely to dismiss her explanation of the situation than listen to her – she was only a lab tech, after all, what did she know? There were any number of revenants in the area that could be infected with the new strain. No one on the security teams wanted to get sick, of course, but sometimes, knowing that they had a 50% chance of living if they were infected vs. a 100% chance of being eaten alive if they played it too safe led to too many people getting bitten. The new strain would spread quickly. She had to get out and make them listen to her. Max tried to override the system, but she wasn’t a hacker; she was stuck in the lab until she starved to death. Killing herself was also an option.

The machine she had used to test Oppen’s blood beeped, then started cycling through its decontamination procedure. It wasn’t supposed to be doing that.

The door to the lab opened. Max hurried over, slipping through as soon as it was open far enough. When she hit the hallway, she froze. Should she take care of Oppen first, or inform the commander of the new development?  The isolation rooms _were_ closer, and the commander was likely enjoying her supper at this hour. Decided, Max went to her quarters, conveniently located across the hall, and retrieved her sidearm. She wasn’t a marksman, but it would be hard to miss her shot in such a small room.

The halls were empty, as usual, but now that emptiness had a sinister feel. As far as she knew, only Oppen was infected, yet it seemed that everyone stationed at the facility was already dead and would soon be lurching at her from around corners. It was almost a relief to see Little Jay standing by Iso-3, definitely not dead.

“Back so soon? Did you find something?”

“I have to see Oppen. I'll talk to you after.” Max walked past him and opened the door, not bothering to knock this time. She almost hoped he did have his dick in his hand; he should at least die happy.

Oppen was not masturbating; he was curled up on side, his arms wrapped around himself, trying to stop his violent shivering. He looked up at her through bleary eyes.

“Sorry, Joe,” she said. His eyes widened at her use of his first name, and she raised her handgun and shot him in the head. Blood, brain matter, and bone fragments burst from the back of his head and he slumped on the bed.

Little Jay rushed in. “What the fuck? What did you do?”

“I had no choice-“ Max began, and pain exploded in her head. She fell to the floor, her jaw throbbing.

“Bitch, you killed him.” Little Jay pulled out his handgun and pointed it at her.

“Please,” she said, holding up a hand. “There’s something-“

Little Jay squeezed the trigger.


End file.
